Apollo and Dionysius Meet
by Cliffe
Summary: The story of how Enjolras and Grantaire met. Probably slash, because it is near unavoidable in this context! Rating not applicable until later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! This is my first Les Miserables attempt because I revere the works of Victor Hugo tremendously and I never wanted to touch it, however... I noticed a severe lack Les Miserables fic and.. maybe this will inspire some. Of course, this all belongs to Victor Hugo and his estate.

Another thing- If there are inaccuracies, I would love to be gently informed- However my Les Mis knowledge ego could not bear a rude reminder! I do love to learn new things, though. And please don't lower my confidence in my writing; I am easily damaged in that sense! And, by the way- This is obviously an unexplained occurence in the book, so I did take some liberties in the behavior of Grantaire and Enjolras. So Grantaire is not a two-dimensional loud drinker-- I don't think Hugo intended it that way in the long run.

Thank you for reading!

It is assumed by many that everything happens for a reason. This was one of the many philosophies discussed in the class which Grantaire had only two more days to study for before the accumulative exam. He wondered, while climbing up the wooden steps into the Cafe Musain, whether or not it would have done him any good to actually attend class sober. He lightly scratched his mostly shaven face and looked at his reflection in the window of the Cafe. His light brown hair swept lightly against his shoulders with the light breeze as he ran a hand through it. He opened the door, sighing to absolve himself of the guilt and stress that built at the base of his stomach. His expressive eyes widened significantly when he noticed that his Parisian hideout had gained popularity overnight, every table filled with enthusiastic students or working men.

His friend, the bartender Sebastien, gave him an acknowledging smile before balancing three bottles of wine in his arm and reaching high for three glasses. Slowly Grantaire dragged his worn boots over to the counter and looked skeptically at the busy man.

"Did you pay these people to come here, my friend?" Grantaire questioned lightly, inspecting the bottles Sebastien had just released from his grasp.

"No, Grantaire," Sebastien said with a smile, "But it does help that the cafe down the street ran out of wine for the day, No?"

Grantaire laughed heartily. "And that is the only reason! How fast their loyalties change!" He mused. "And where am I to sit- every table is taken."

Sebastien slid a glass to a rather gruff looking man and grabbed the bills from his hand almost lovingly. He glanced across his Cafe with searching eyes, and then singled out on one spot.

"There," he pointed.

Grantaire followed the outstreched finger to see a golden blonde head completely buried in a book. If it weren't for the boots resting on the floor, Grantaire would have thought the shimmering hair belonged to a lady. He raised one eyebrow and turned back to his friend.

"He...She...They look somewhat preoccupied," Grantaire said. In response he simply got an eyeroll from Sebastien, who poured him a glass of wine and handed it to him.

"There. Your favorite. Just go sit with the lady- if he bothers you, then come talk to me. Otherwise, he seems to be content just doing his work and drinking that tea shite." Sebastien demanded. Grantaire left him a gratuitous tip, then approached the table with an ounce of caution.

"Monseiur?"

No reply, Grantiare asked a touch louder.

"Monseiur?"

No reply. His patience began to run.

"Mo---"

"Yes?' The golden one cut in, looking up as if looking up from his work was a strenuous task.

This was the first Grantaire had seen of this student's face. Long, brown eyelashes framed green eyes, which, while pretty in their way, flashed with obvious annoyance at the interruption. His skin glowed with health, and full peach lips formed a slight frown as he glanced upon Grantaire.

Slightly taken aback, Grantaire smiled kindly and explained, "Pardon me, M'seiur, but as all the seats in the Cafe are occupied I was curious as to whether or not I could share this table with you"

The student was evidently taken aback by his politeness, as he blushed a soft pink on his cheeks. "But of course," he murmured, removing stacks of papers from the other side of the table.

Grantaire mumbled a soft "Thank you" before sitting down across from this man. He noticed this man studying his movements rather intently, and in order to break this potentially awkward silence he injected, "I suppose I should introduce myself... My name is Grantaire."

He extened a hand across the table. The student took his hand and shook with surprising strength. "I am Enjolras," he responded, his face relaxing slightly from the cool masque that played across his features.

Grantaire motioned to his books and papers, laughing slightly. "I suppose it is time for the final exam for your classes as well, No?" The student Enjolras smirked and nodded, sighing over his work. "Yes. Government. I have much to study."

Grantaire nodded understandingly. "Then I will not distract you from your work. I have my own to do as well." And with that, the two silent students sat in the noisy cafe, enraptured in their individual tasks.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi again!  
I'd like to address a few of the reviewers first, thank you for your wonderful reviews:  
Jenny: My favorite review! Very honest... but nevertheless encouraging. I am still finding my footing as an author of any kind, whether it be essays on nothing or more creative things. You caught me here on something I often do- which is to convince myself that unless every detail is described, the reader will not see it as I do! However, with this next chapter I considered all of my adjectives and found that some of them were extraneous (even to what I was trying to explain)-- and the first one I deleted was "lightly". I love that adjective, obviously, but it was certainly abused in the first chapter... 

3: Oh random heart, you speak from mine! Javert is a STUDENT- and yes students can be nasty, ugly people but he is young and he is full of life and WHY is that attribute so forgotten? I think the musical is getting better at making him what he is; hiring better looking Grantaire's and making his blocking more frivolous-- I long for a new Grantaire.

And to the others, Thank you for your wonderful reviews. I was in a hurry to finish chapter 2 after them!

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By the time Grantaire was disengaging himself from the text and emerging into reality, he noticed that night had fallen and the noise had disappeared. All that remained of the boisterous early evening crowd were a few stragglers, sipping their wine and coffee and mostly keeping their eyes downcast. One conversation was being had in the corner between two students. A soft, feminine laugh was heard as their seats became closer and closer together; forgotten school material sprawled out in front of them.

Grantaire smirked and then focused his eyes to the student, Enjolras, who still occupied the space across from Grantaire. His eyes still darted sharply across the pages, as enamored as the first second Grantaire encountered him. If Enjolras felt Grantaire's eyes on him, he hid this knowledge well. Grantaire felt a moment's hesitation as he found himself suddenly completely packed and ready to head out the door. His bag rested on his lap as he finished off the very last of his wine (his third glass) and set the glass quietly on the table. He took a moment to study his companion for a last time before silently getting up to leave. He gave his bartender friend Sebastien a wave and thanks before stepping outside.

As the door of the Cafe slammed shut with the breeze and Grantaire's help, Enjolras's head jolted up. Puzzled eyes adjusted to reality slowly as he found the current situation completely different to when he had dove into his text. What of the man, Grantaire? He exhaled largely, sipping his now chilled tea and rubbing his temples. Government had proven a fair contender for his driven spirit, and he planned on conquering that exam easily. For all of his political beliefs, it would be an embarrassment to perform poorly there. He gathered his papers together and found a slightly worn notebook he did not recognize. He opened it carefully and saw unfamiliar writing. Thinking it to belong to the man who sat across from him, he slipped it in his bag in order to keep it safe.

"Thank you," Enjolras bowed to the bartender. The bartender accepted his cup and nodded in acknowledgement.

And, with that, Enjolras pushed the door open into the cool night and descended the steps. The flames that lit the lamps on the street flickered with the spring breeze as Enjolras hugged his waist. He kept his eyes mostly downcast for no reason other than tiredness, and reached his apartment quickly. Not bothering to light a candle, he kicked off his boots and relaxed onto his bed, falling into a deep sleep.

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As the morning light shone through his window, Enjolras awoke easily to the sound of the shops opening and people conversing. He rose quickly and went to his washroom, where he changed his clothes (it was about time) and washed his body and hair. He washed his mouth out and rubbed paste on his teeth, then put on his boots and a white shirt.

Feeling infinitely cleaner, he exited his apartment in the hopes of another studious day before his Friday exam. He bit into his breakfast apple and walked down the bustling streets, carrying his bag across his shoulder. His eyes searched for the streets that had brought him to the Cafe Musain yesterday; he had enjoyed their tea immensely. He turned a corner into a narrow street and looked to the floor, trying to visualize last night's walk back. He suddenly collided with a hard body and dropped his apple on the floor. Strong hands steadied him and he saw familiar brown hair as the man knelt to pick up his apple. When Enjolras saw his face, he realized it was the man who he had met at the Cafe yesterday.

"I suppose this is no good now, hm?" Grantaire noted, attempting to rid the apple of its grime. His eyes shone with recognition of Enjolras, though he made no indication that this meeting held any significance.

"I - I apologize," Enjolras stammered. He fixed his ruffled appearance and looked upon Grantaire who waved off his apology with a smile.

"Not to worry. Where were you headed, Enjolras?" He asked, barely touching his shoulder.

"Actually... I was on my way to the Cafe Musain; where we met yesterday?" Enjolras replied.

"Ahh, but you are headed in the complete opposite direction, my friend! Let me take you," Grantaire insisted, motioning for him to walk the other way. As they walked down the street, Enjolras studied Grantaire's appearance. Today the aroma of wine seemed to emit from his very clothing, though his hair and face did not indicate that he was anything less than a student. Enjolras took note of his deep brown eyes that seemed to contradict the probably drunken state of the man; they appeared as alert and expressive as a fully sober gentleman. He was not dirty, but had an overwhelmingly rough sense about him, paired with an attractive face.

To break the silence, Grantaire asked, "So now that your breakfast became acquainted with the floor, would you like anything to eat?"

Enjolras cleared his thoughts with a quick shake of his head, also responding to the question. "No," he began, "I am usually never hungry in the morning- the apple is to calm my conscience which tells me that I must eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"And we are only too lucky to have that luxury," Grantaire mused, inclining his head to the poverty-stricken individuals that were sprinkled along the street.

"Yes; I suppose I take advantage of it because I feel as though I should," Enjolras realized, shaking his head a little. "...What do you make of this, Grantaire?" He asked pryingly, indicating the poverty. Little did Grantaire know, this question was a bit of a test for Enjolras. It had been submitted to all acquaintences before Grantaire, including his best friend to date, Combeferre.

Grantaire hesitated, then sighed lightly. "It is..." he began, "Terrible. Unacceptable. Inhumane." He glanced over to Enjolras, who was drinking his words, eyes wide and curious. Grantaire narrowed his eyes, and decided to be honest. "However... I have never believed that there will ever be a way to avoid it... I believe it is inevitable in human existence."

Enjolras allowed his words to sink in, and nodded. "Yes," he said distantly, "I suppose so..."

Grantaire hated to disappoint this friendly acquaintence. "My friend Courfeyrac and I- we- well, we study the politics of France avidly. He is the optimist, leaving me as the-"

"Pessimist," Enjolras added with a small smile.

"Yes. Pessimist. And pessimist is as pessimist does, my friend." Grantaire added. They reached the door of the Cafe and Grantaire pushed it open for Enjolras, nodding for him to ascend the steps.

By the way-- if you are all disturbed by the descriptions of any particular bathing habits; I tend to not disclude those from my writing because I usually find myself wondering how disgusting it must be that the character woke up, got out of bed, and left the house without worrying to do anything hygenic. And some characters don't call for that special attention but Enjolras most certainly would, I believe.


End file.
